Here Again
by Vytina
Summary: Neither of them ever backed down. Especially not from each other.


**A/N: It's been a long time since I've posted a Yu-Gi-Oh! piece, and even longer since I've updated "Infection". I should mention that I'm taking that story down for extensive revision. I will repost it as soon as I'm satisfied with the finished product. In the meantime, I've kept inspiration flowing through random little one-shots that are mainly centered around my all-time favorite Yu-Gi-Oh! characters, Seto Kaiba and Amelda.**

**The posting of this story should be credited to Mandolina Lightrobber, to whom I owe great thanks for not only being a great source of encouragement, but also a dear friend and supporter.**

**I confess to listening, repeatedly, to Kelly Clarkson's "My Life Would Suck Without You" while writing this piece. Some inspiration from those lyrics might be found below.**

**Title: Here Again**

**Summary: Neither of them ever backed down. Especially not from each other.**

**Rating: T**

**Characters: Seto Kaiba and Amelda**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters associated with the Yu-Gi-Oh! series. I own only the idea for this story.**

* * *

"_Cause we belong together now,_

_forever united here somehow._

_You got a piece of me, and honestly,_

_my life would suck without you."_

_~ lyrics from Kelly Clarkson's "My Life Would Suck Without You"_

* * *

Five weeks and three days. That was precisely how long it had taken to find him.

Seto Kaiba had to give even the tiniest modicum of credit where it was due: Amelda knew how to disappear off the grid. Or, more accurately, he wasn't disappearing as much as he was manipulating the grid. It hadn't been difficult to determine the redhead was, in fact, still living and breathing, but to find exactly _where_ he was conducting his affairs...that had been the challenge.

Investing time, effort, and valuable resources into finding a man who had tried to kill both him and Mokuba. More often than not, Kaiba had been one second away from tossing this ridiculous mission aside and focusing on what really mattered—the success of his company and the flourishing existence of his new theme parks. Four days ago, he had been at that very brink once again, his right index finger hovering deliberately over the _END_ button, one motion away from ending the whole search and getting on with his life.

And then he'd seen it: Amelda's face as clear as if standing right before him, an image forever branded upon his memory. And that smirk. That infernal, insufferable, infuriating smirk. Pleased that Kaiba was just giving up without seeing the task through to the end. Pleased that Kaiba wasn't determined enough to meet the challenge that had been set out before him.

Whether Amelda was actually conscious of just what challenge he'd presented before the brunette CEO, that was immaterial. But a challenge _had_ been established, whether purposely or not, and Seto Kaiba would not back down from any challenge...especially when it came from _him_.

And thus life now found the CEO of the most successful gaming corporation in Japan—and possibly the world—standing in the heart of downtown New York City, because if someone really wanted to disappear in America, there was no better place to go. Here, Amelda could easily become just another face lost in a sea of hundreds with no one the wiser to him, his history, or anything recognizable about him. Nothing identifiable. A completely blank slate, wiped clean of the past and all its transgressions.

Kaiba subconsciously adjusted the sleeve of his button-down shirt, forcing himself to not take another critical sweep of his reflection in the glass window of a nearby shop. Six times in half as many hours had he looked himself over, each time for a reason he hadn't bothered to identify. Vanity had not been at the forefront of his thoughts when he'd dressed himself this morning and left the hotel suite, but rather simple logic. The stark white of his usual business suit had no place here when his intentions were to remain as invisible as possible, and the admittedly-elaborate design of his trademark coat and all-black attire would have drawn just as much attention. And so, for the sake of invisibility, he'd opted for dark slacks and a pale blue shirt. Simple and mundane, and he already had visions of a redheaded smirk accompanying commentary about how out of character he looked right now. The thought alone made him bristle. Fitting, of course, how even when he wasn't physically present Amelda could have that effect on him.

The streets were obscenely crowded at this time of night, a bustling herd of people all going nowhere and in a great hurry to get there. Bodies brushing without qualm against his, a multitude of mouths moving all around him, eyes occasionally sweeping over his figure, and yet Kaiba felt, heard, and sensed none of it. Whether he was unconsciously ignoring it or honestly didn't register it, he wasn't sure and didn't really care one way or the other. His mind recited the address over and over, a ceaseless mantra pounding like a drum, the map as though drawn out before his eyes. Each step was without question even in this labyrinth of a city, face impassive and unwilling to demonstrate the briefest moment of uncertainty when surrounded by strangers. Head held high with confidence, hands calmly set in the pockets of his pants, he looked as though he belonged. No one needed to know that he didn't belong here. Sometimes, he found himself wondering if he really belonged anywhere.

And he vaguely wondered, against better judgment, if Amelda had ever contemplated that very question.

* * *

The apartment complex left something to be desired with its worn exterior, steps of cracked and blistered wood, and small landings comprised of dirt-smeared concrete. Six stories tall, each staircase taking him a little bit higher than the grating sounds below, and he finally found the one he was looking for at the very top level. Here the landing was left exposed without a supporting rail, giving him a clear view of the street below, the crowds still hurrying along in a great mass of bodies and indistinguishable features. But no one was looking up to meet his gaze. All eyes were staring ahead or staring down, never up.

A moment of pause followed, his blue eyes studying the worn wood of the apartment door and the rusted brass of the number mounted in the dead center. Questions emerged from the back of his mind, all of them rhetorical in nature and quickly pushed aside for that very reason. He was _not_ going to ask why he was here. The answer even in its most simplistic form was anything but _simple_, and he didn't have the time to entertain complexities. He had met the challenge, and now there was only one thing left to do before this whole mess came to an end.

Three sharp raps upon the wooden door, and he waited only a few minutes before the interior lock slipped out of place and the door opened.

Kaiba felt a sudden reel of shock hit him, narrowly disguised by a tightening of his jaw and fisting of both hands. Physically speaking, Amelda hadn't changed much; the paleness of his skin and the tight flex of his muscles was now hidden by a dark grey shirt that covered both arms entirely and left only a modest sliver of skin exposed below the clavicle. The flurry of red hair still fell soft and feathery against his face, his stance still carried confidence and self-assurance that hadn't faded over the past few weeks.

But his eyes were different. No longer consumed with rage and hatred as he surveyed the man standing at his door, silently swearing vengeance and promising death. Still piercing in their stare, but no longer with the intent to destroy. Rather, Kaiba felt as though he was being examined thoroughly without so much as a word. As though his purposes and intentions were already put out on display, and he didn't even need to offer an explanation.

His suspicions were confirmed a moment later, when Amelda stepped back and to the side, the door still ajar and the way inside the apartment unblocked. Taking the silent invitation for what it was, Kaiba entered in equal silence and took stock of his new surroundings. Hardly extravagant, but he'd never taken Amelda for one to be concerned with frills and fancy details. More interesting to him was the bareness of the walls and shelves, everything utterly devoid of personality or identifying mementos. It was just empty.

The silence grating on his nerves, Kaiba followed the soft _click_ of the door closing with words, "Do your...colleagues know where you are?"

It was a test; he already knew Rafael and Varon had no idea where the redhead was. They had both been far less difficult to find, and their response to his question had been the same, all while never asking why Kaiba was interested in Amelda's whereabouts.

"I think you already know the answer to that, Kaiba." Amelda returned smoothly, stepping away from the door with both arms loosely folded over his chest. "Stop beating around the bush and just ask."

Damn him. "...Why New York?" it wasn't exactly the question he'd been entertaining for the last five weeks, but it would do for now, and this time it wasn't rhetorical. "Of all the places, why dump yourself among the faceless masses?"

Amelda blinked and then smirked. "Why, that's the beauty of New York, Kaiba." He replied with an idle gesturing of both hands, "No one knows who you are, and no one gives a damn. The only time anyone cares is if you run for public office or you kill someone."

Kaiba blinked. Tact, truly, was not the redhead's trait, and strangely enough he found it something to be admired. All day long he had to deal with people tip-toeing around him like they were walking on thin ice—which, given his level of patience on a given day, wasn't entirely an inaccurate description. Still, Amelda's brutal honesty was somewhat refreshing. "So you just uprooted yourself, cut all connections, and came to the one place where no one knows who you are or what you've done." He said with a light quirk of the brow, "Why am I not surprised?"

"Not all of us crave the limelight, Kaiba," Amelda answered, turning towards the small kitchen area. The brunette followed him after a moment. "And not all of us look nearly as fetching on the evening news as yourself."

"Flattery will get you nowhere." The brunette returned, finally feeling a sense of familiarity settle between them. Sarcasm, wit, a constant battle of wills and intellect..._this_ he remembered. This he understood.

The redhead smirked idly over the rim of a mug that appeared to be filled with tea. After taking a brief sip, he set the mug down and leaned back against the counter. The lean angle of his body, reclining comfortably and totally at ease, conspired with the dark hue of his clothes fitted to his figure to become a thoroughly disconcerting distraction, and Kaiba jerked his eyes away from the image to find that smirk still settled on Amelda's face. God, he hated that smirk.

He suddenly became aware of another mug nudging against his right hand, set down on the counter and steaming with tea. Blinking slowly, he lifted and took a wary sniff. Across the short distance, Amelda snorted quietly. "Oh, really, Kaiba...if I was still going to kill you, it wouldn't be with arsenic in your tea."

"A truly comforting notion," he replied, voice dripping with sarcasm as he sipped the tea. It burned the tip of his tongue, but unless Amelda was trying to incinerate him with a hot beverage, there was no apparent danger. It cooled soon enough, and he took another sip, all the while aware of Amelda's grey eyes focused on him. The gaze was intent, but casual and lacking the danger it had once promised. Really, this felt almost...domestic.

At least, as close to _domestic_ as either of them could possibly get.

Amelda's mug met the counter top with a soft _chink_, and then he broke the silence. "How's Mokuba?"

Kaiba had been expecting this question eventually, and while he'd entertained several answers—from some as indifferent as saying he was fine to some as impolite as saying his younger brother was too busy to even remember Amelda—he finally decided the truth was less troublesome to offer. Besides, any lie he'd try to pose would have been called out in half a second. Amelda's uncanny ability to see past well-constructed facades and lies was just another irritating aspect of his character...and what set him so distinctly apart from the rest.

"Keeping busy with our theme parks," he said quietly, swallowing another bit of tea before adding what was, really, the most essential part of the response, "He's been asking about you."

Blue eyes never left the other's face, and he saw the flicker of regret pass through grey depths before a blink erased it once again. "Has he?"

Kaiba wasn't about to let Amelda get away with that. _He_ was the only one allowed to be indifferent between them. "You know he has, Amelda." His voice was firm, determined to drive his point home before another moment was wasted, "When I had to tell him that Rafael and Varon had no idea where you were..."

The image of his brother's crestfallen face flashed before his eyes, devastation flooding throughout his large eyes as he'd bowed his head and offered a quiet sound of understanding, and he had to swallow back the emotion in his voice before he continued, "If you didn't want to see _me_ before you decided to relocate, that's fine. But you could have at least said goodbye to Mokuba."

"_Don't_ lecture me, Kaiba." Amelda retorted sharply, turning to narrow those grey eyes at him. "I know it's hard for you to remember what it means to respect someone, but I _am_ three years older than you."

The brunette blinked in order to hide his initial reaction of surprise. Three years...he hadn't even registered that his former enemy was older than him by three _months_, but now that he knew...it made sense. Really, he'd just assumed that Amelda acted older because he'd never been granted a true childhood. Not unlike himself, really. But to think there were actually years existing between them...

He'd stood his ground twice against this man. Called him an enemy. Fought him with everything he had. Pitied him and his thirst for vengeance when his injuries had not been Kaiba's to claim...

He'd carried him. He had lifted Amelda in his arms and carried him to safety. Carried him...

"And your point is?" Kaiba retorted dismissively, finishing the tea and pushing the mug aside while meeting Amelda's glare.

"Learn a little respect for your elders." Amelda answered with that infernally-cocky smirk, but it faded just a moment later, "And for what it's worth...I almost did."

_That_ was unexpected. "You what?"

"I almost came to say goodbye." He repeated, "To Mokuba...and I guess to you as well."

"So why didn't you?"

Another bought of silence followed, but it didn't seem Amelda was trying to figure out an answer. Rather, he looked as though considering whether or not it would be worth it to admit the truth or remain silent. Finally, he released a quiet sigh and pushed himself away from the counter in an idle, fluid gesture. "Because saying goodbye couldn't have been done without offering an apology for what I did." He answered, facing Kaiba fully and taking a few steps toward him. "For which," he added, "I've noticed you haven't asked."

Kaiba didn't even blink this time. Meeting Amelda's unspoken challenge once again, he too stepped forward without hesitation. "Apologies don't change anything." He answered quietly, but not softly, "An apology from you isn't going to change what you tried to do, and an apology from me isn't going to bring your brother back."

He studied Amelda's face carefully, waiting for any sign that he'd touched a nerve and broken the collected neutrality etched into his former opponent's face, but the redhead only blinked with a small nod...and in that moment, Kaiba finally understood just why the choice had been made to leave the past behind and start over. Amelda, finally, was moving on.

He, Seto Kaiba, was the only remaining connection to the past.

"You're right," Amelda nodded again, taking a smaller step forward. A foot remained between them. "Which means you never came here looking for an apology."

He shook his head, "No, I didn't."

Another step, "Then why are you here, Kaiba?"

The brunette felt as though the answer was already clear, just from the way those grey eyes were studying him...examining him from the inside out. He wondered, silently, what might have been different—if anything—had Amelda let himself look this closely when they'd first met. Would he have seen any differences between him and that bastard stepfather of his, or would he still have only seen what he wanted to see?

Would anything between them have changed, or would it have still come down to a duel atop a destruction-bound airplane, where they had pushed each other until one finally broke?

Finally, a smirk lifted the corners of his mouth as he gave an impassive shrug, "Damned if I know, Amelda."

The expression was mirrored perfectly, but this time it held some strange appeal that Kaiba couldn't quite properly identify. It was almost...attractive. Almost.

"Well," Amelda replied smoothly, "maybe another night here will give you the answer."

He shook his head, "I have to get back. Mokuba shouldn't have to handle everything himself."

"I'd daresay your brother can handle things for a little while longer," he was still smirking, seeing right through offered excuses and happily demolishing them, "Growing up with _you_ should have prepared him well enough."

That was about as close to a compliment as he'd ever gotten, and he couldn't resist a tiny upward lift of the mouth before he regained his serious expression once more. "Amelda—"

"Drop the excuses, Kaiba," whatever he had intended to say was lost as the distance between them was reduced to approximately five inches, and for all that he hated people getting in his space, he couldn't find a valid reason to move away, "It's one more night...what have you got to lose?"

A silent smirk was his answer.

**END**


End file.
